


The Upper Hand

by neitherbluenorgreen



Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neitherbluenorgreen/pseuds/neitherbluenorgreen





	1. Chapter 1

Leaning against the bar you look around the smoky room. It’s a week night, but your favourite dive is still pretty crowded. Lots of familiar faces, a few newbies and him. 

He’s been coming here for about three weeks now. You noticed him at once, tall, pretty fit, short blond hair and deliciously dangerous. Yet his bright blue eyes are less cold than he might want to let show, his smile is too genuine. He tries to look like one of the guys who frequent this pub, a worker, a guy next door, but he isn’t. He’s far too sharp, too observant. His jeans, t-shirt and faded hoodie under a leather jacket look good on him, but seem like a disguise. You bet he’d be more comfortable in a suit or uniform.

The first thing you noticed about him wasn’t even the man, it was the sound of his bike. A deep purring, the sound of a powerful machine kept in check. You’ve always been a sucker for a man on a motorbike and he’s just so sexy… but at the same time you don’t trust the perfection.

There has to be a reason he’s coming here of all places.

You push yourself away from the bar and saunter over to the darts board. You’re hanging out here because you can unwind. Your father used to own the pub and everybody is used to you hanging around. Nobody would dare to hassle you and even though it’s not owned by the family any more, you get free drinks for helping out occasionally.

Your aim is off. You try to concentrate on the game, but he’s sitting just out of the corner of your eye and you have to fight the urge to steal glances at him.

He noticed you and at first was obviously put off by a girl like out hanging around a place like this, but he got used to seeing you, nodding at you now when he comes in.

The dart nearly hits the wall this time and you give up. Old Pete looks at you knowingly, he’s seen you play so many times that he knows you’re distracted.

Frustrated with yourself and your silly crushing on a stranger, you decide to call it a night and leave. When you gathered all your stuff and said good-bye to the bar-keep you notice that Mr. Mysterious is already gone.

 

The walk home is a short one, but leads through some dark alleys. It’s not that late, but already dark and you square your shoulders, raise your head and stomp on.

You try to avoid dark alleys, even steering away from walking too close to their openings. A large puddle force you to close to one and while you concentrate on not getting your shoes wet, you’re suddenly grabbed from behind, a large hand clamping over your mouth.

You freeze and then adrenaline shoots through you, giving you force to struggle against the arms holding you. Your captor is stronger than you and drags you into the alley. Frantically you fight against his grip and you manage to kick the man, getting yourself out of his hold. He recovers quickly and lunges at you again, taking your arm. You spin and push at him, but his grip is iron-strong.

“You’re not Pine,” he growls and for a split second you wonder why he’s surprised you’re not a tree – then he grins and adds: “I guess I could have more fun with you, anyway.”

His leer makes you nauseous and when he pulls you close, you ram your knee up, hitting him hard between the legs. He winces, but recovers quickly, backhanding you across the face. Your head rings, you taste blood in your mouth and you feel cold fear rising. He towers over you, grinning and licking his lips, while you back away.

“Hey,” a male voice shouts from the head of the alley.

“Bugger off,” your attacker spits back, not even looking at him.

The next thing you see is a fist connecting with your attackers head, knocking him around. You get a glimpse of a familiar form, jeans, leather jacket and Mr Mysterious launches himself at the other man.

“Fuck off and get your own broad,” your attacker bellows, trying to push the newcomer away.

Then his eyes widen and he grins.

“Finally, Pine, I get you. And I get the bitch to celebrate it.”

He doesn’t get an answer but you see grim determination on Mr Mysterious – Pine’s? - face. You scoot back, watching the two man wrestle. Your first instinct was too flee, but you need to see the big man go down, possible kick him in the nuts, too.

Your attacker is more burly, but slower, trying to hammer at his opponent, who dances out of reach and then lands a hard kick. You look around for a weapon, seeing a large brick nearby. You grab it and wait for the right moment.

When your attacker is with his back to you, you smash it against his head. It connects with an ugly crunching sound and he goes down.

Pine grabs your hand and you make a run for it.


	2. Chapter 2

You’re dragged through the alley, up the street. Pine’s long legs make for a speed you can only match by running hard. A few streets down, he stops, looking around to orientate himself.

“We can’t go to my place, they might be waiting there,” he says and without thinking you reply: “Let’s go to mine, it’s not far away.”

You lead him to your building, noticing him checking for followers. It makes you nervous, but as you fumble for the keys, you know that your flat means safety.

You run up the stairs and lead him into your flat. He keeps you from turning on the light and walks over to the window to look out to the street. After a few minutes of waiting with baited breath, he nods at you and smiles.

“You can turn on the light now, I think. Nobody seems to have followed us.”

You switch on the light and glance over at him. He still stands by the window, looking out. Then he turns and frowns.

“You’re bleeding!”

With a few steps he’s by your side, brushing your hair back from your face. He touches your forehead and a sharp pain makes you wince.

“Bathroom?” he asks and you lead him there.

While you collect your first aid kit, he strips out of his leather jacket and hoodie. You like the way his white t-shirt clings to his body. He gently leads you to the rim of your tub and you sit down. With careful fingers he cleans your wound, looking at it with an air of experience. He smells clean, yet manly. His breath puffs against his brow as he checks your wound. Something makes you trust him.

“It’s been bleeding quite a bit, but it doesn’t need stitches. Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy?”

You shake your head, silenced by his proximity.

He looks at you intently.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” he says.

“Who was he?” you blurt out. “He knows you, right? Who are you?”

He takes a step back, frowning and then nodding.

“You deserve some truth.”

You raise one eyebrow. Some truth?

“I’m looking for a certain guy. He’s gone below the radar, but I picked up some hints and rumours that he’s around here.”

You nod.

“He’s dangerous, but the other people who search for him are even more dangerous. They want to keep me away from him. I can’t exactly tell you what I do for a living, but I promise I will keep you out of harms way.”

He washes his hands and looks at his reflection in the mirror. Up close, in the bright light of your bathroom, he’s even more gorgeous. You clear your throat.

“What’s your name? Pine?”

“Jonathan. Jonathan Pine,” he answers, looking at your reflection in the mirror now. A smile dances around his lips.

“Well, thank you Jonathan, for saving me.”

He turns around.

“Ah, I would say you saved me. I bet he’s still out.”

You wince. A thought hits you and you feel cold.

“You don’t think I killed him?” you whisper, but Jonathan shakes his head.

“Guys like him have thick skulls. I heard him moan when we ran.”

You look at him, but can’t quite figure out if he’s saying the truth or just trying to reassure you.

“Are you okay?” you ask, scanning him for blood.

“A bit roughed up, but nothing serious,” he grins. “I guess I should be going now.”

He turns to walk towards the door.

“Where will you go? You said they’d be waiting for you,” you call after him.   
“I actually don’t know. I’ll find some hidey-hole.” A loop-sided grin and the way he brushes his hand through his hair tells you he hasn’t got an idea. He hesitates, looking at you and back at the door. You don’t want him to go.

“I’d feel safer if you’d stayed.”

He raises and eyebrow.

“I have a comfy couch and I don’t really want to be alone, after… after that.” You hug yourself and look at your feet.

He takes a step closer and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you’re safe now,” he says. You nod.

“Darling, you are shaking.” He wraps his arms around you and you take a shaky breath.

“It’s okay to cry,” he murmurs in your hair.

“I won’t spill a tear for that bastard,” you hiss through gritted teeth and a rumbling laugh shakes his chest. You wrap your arms around him and feel yourself relax.

After a while you step back and smile at him shyly.

“I’ll stay on your couch,” he announces. “It’s probably the safest place for me, and if it makes you feel better…”

You nod.

“Can I get you anything to drink? I’m making tea,” you offer and he accepts.

Later he sits at your tiny kitchen table, a hot cuppa in his large hands and it almost seems normal.

You are shaken up and while the tea calms you, you still do your best not to think about the attack in the alley. Jonathan looks at you with concern on his face.

“I better go to bed. I’ll get you some blankets,” you say, standing up. He’s too damn handsome, but obviously tangled up in bad things and while he does make you feel safe, you don’t want to get too comfortable around him.

Alone in your bed, you wonder if he will still be there when you wake up, unsure how it would make you feel. You gather your duvet around you, cocooning yourself, as if that would keep the fear away.

You’re bone-tired and drift off quickly.

 

The alley is dark and only a far light shows you where to run. You hear scratching sounds, ugly laughter, but you don’t know where it comes from. Your steps echo around you.

Heavy steps follow you. You run, but you don’t seem too move at all. Strong hands grip you and a leering grin hovers over you, while darkness presses against you like a wet blanket. You scream, trying to fight against the suffocating feeling, trashing around…

You wake up to Jonathan sitting beside you on the bed, freeing you from your blankets, making calming sounds. You blink at him and he smiles. You still shiver from the nightmare and he lays back, drawing you close and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight.

He draws the blanket back over the both of you.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe now,” he whispers.

“I know,” you answer grumpily. “I’m a big girl.”

He chuckles, but keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you. It feels good. He’s warm and you feel less alone, less scared.

“Try to sleep. I’ll keep the bogeyman away,” he jokes and you kick his leg.

You nestle into his arms and soon fall asleep again, this time without bad dreams.


End file.
